


speak your bleeding heart

by daydreamblvr6



Series: blvr's self-indulgent malec fest [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (ie a lot omg we're so blessed), Cuddling, Domesticity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kisses of All Kinds, M/M, Missing Scene, everything is just A Lot in the fic ok, it's so fluffy i wanna die level fluff, seriously so much domesticity i could choke, talking out big issues with the expected levels of maturity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9877394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamblvr6/pseuds/daydreamblvr6
Summary: another missing scene! alec and magnus talk things out after the last episode (2x08).Alec shifts on the couch, angling himself away from Magnus and gesturing to the mess. “I can help you clean this stuff up,” he offers, moving to do just that.“No.” Magnus catches his wrist as he stands. “Just. Stay close to me, Alexander. Please.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay i don't think they banged in 2x07, something which will become relevant in about 2,000 words so heads up. also THIS GOT SO WILDLY OUT OF HAND -- it's seven pages omfg. i really didn't. didn't expect that. 
> 
> um, other important notes: this takes place after the end of the episode, which i have only watched once so y'know. i hope i remembered things right.

“I'm not leaving you in that institute. Not tonight,” Jace snaps. “So you can keep bitchin' or – ”

Magnus catches Jace's eye as he and Alec come bickering through the door to the loft, a hand on Jace's arm and a nod communicating _I've got him_. Jace considers, looks at Alec hunched and fidgeting, uncomfortable, before nodding back.

“I'm gonna go...pretend I have other friends,” Jace says, backing out the door. “I'll check in with Izzy!” he calls as he disappears down the hall.

“What? Jace – ” Alec starts, but his parabatai is already gone, though the worry he feels through their bond is no less acute.

He turns to Magnus, but doesn't look at him. “I don't need to be babysat,” he gripes. “I'm fine.”

Magnus makes a _Riiiiiight_ face which Alec doesn't catch as he passes by.

“I have tea,” Magnus announces, heading for the kitchen.

“Your place is still a mess,” Alec notices, surprised, when he looks up to watch him. He eyes Magnus narrowly, concerned. “You don't have the magic left to deal with it, do you?”

“How quickly you learn my limits,” Magnus observes, turning back to him, fingers interlocked above his stomach.

Alec tilts his head, catching the uneasy tone. “Are you comfortable with that?”

Magnus pauses. “The last person who knew me this well was Camille,” he admits thoughtfully, turning his hands over each other. “I don't. I'm not. I've sort've – ” he turns one hand palm up before folding his fingers and bringing it back to his chest, “forgotten what this is like.”

“This?” Alec asks.

Magnus just looks at him, hands open, until Alec nods.

“Maybe – sit,” Alec suggests, gesturing towards the couch. At the note of concern in his voice, Magnus abandons the tea and does.

Alec sits beside him, putting the back of his hand to Magnus' forehead. Magnus looks up at it and then at Alec's face, bemused. “What're you doing?” he asks, though he already knows.

“Oh, I. It's just.” Alec brings his hand down quickly to his lap. “Habit,” he explains sheepishly. “It's the first thing I do when anybody I care about doesn't look so good. I've been doing it since Izzy and I were kids. Jace hates it.”

Magnus smiles at him, fond and fit to burst with it. “I don't have a fever,” he informs him.

“Yeah, you-you wouldn't,” Alec says, bringing his hands together in an embarrassed clap. “I mean, you wouldn't, right?”

Laughing, Magnus shakes his head. “Not from just this,” he says. “I have made myself ill from overexertion before, but it takes much more than what happened here tonight.”

Alec nods, as though that was the answer he'd expected. Magnus hides his continued amusement behind a hand.

Alec shifts on the couch, angling himself away from Magnus and gesturing to the mess. “I can help you clean this stuff up,” he offers, moving to do just that.

“No.” Magnus catches his wrist as he stands. “Just. Stay close to me, Alexander. Please.”

Brow furrowed with concern, Alec sits back down, closer than before. “Do you need my strength?” he asks, extending his hand.

“No. Thank you, Alec,” Magnus replies, grasping that hand anyway. “I just need to be able to feel your breath.” He smiles when he sees that Alec catches the throwback. It fades when he speaks again. “I nearly lost you tonight.” He watches every muscle in Alec's body go taught beneath the skin. Alec angles his face down and away from him and Magnus brings his free hand up to rest on Alec's neck, his thumb tracing Alec's jaw.

“Alexander,” he says and Alec's out from under his hands, halfway across the room in two quick strides.

“I'm-I'm sorry I worried you, but—”

“If you say you're fine, I—”

“I _am_ fine. It was just the spell.”

Magnus tilts his head at him, obviously unconvinced and disappointed that he'd been expected to be. “Alec. I didn't pull anybody else off that ledge.”

Alec paces, picking at the skin around the nailbed of both thumbs with his forefingers.

Magnus stands, both hands reaching, his palms open, entreating. “You're worried that you're weak. You're not.”

Alec brings a hand up, palm facing Magnus even as he faces away. “No.”

“I _know_ your strength, Alec.”

“No.” Alec shakes his head – “No” – but Magnus continues: “I've felt it.”

“No if I was strong it wouldn't _hurt_ this—” he cuts himself off, savagely, biting his lip. His pacing halts, but his shoulders still heave.

“Pain isn't weakness, Alexander. It's just pain.”

“There's no _reason—_ ”

“Depression doesn't need a reason.”

“ _Depression_?” Alec sneers, vicious.

Soft and sad, Magnus smiles. “I nearly threw myself off a bridge once,” he notes. “I hadn't even been spelled.”

Alec's head snaps up. “Magnus—” he starts, voice heavy with worry and apology.

Magnus waves it off. “I deal with it,” he assures Alec, meeting his gaze. “For centuries, now, off and on.” He steps towards Alec, hands reaching out tentatively to rest on Alec's arms, looking intently into Alec's eyes. “I _understand_ , Alec.”

Alec crumples against him, head dropping to Magnus' shoulder. Magnus brings his arms up around him, back bowing under the weight, but Magnus holds him and Alec holds him in return, pressing his face into Magnus' neck.

Pushing his nose into Alec's hair, Magnus runs his hands up and down Alec's back, feeling the rise and fall of Alec's breaths and the warmth from Alec's body, all the little assurances that he's here and fine and whole. He does this until he's nearly numb all over, his hands begin to tingle from lack of bloodflow. He brings a hand over Alec's right shoulder for one last sweep before sitting them down again – but Alec flinches.

Magnus pulls back to find Alec carefully not looking at him. “What's that?” he asks.

“It's nothing.”

“ _Alec_ ,” Magnus pleads.

“Really,” Alec hurries to reassure him. “It's really – ” he catches himself about to say _fine_ and redirects. “Okay. It's _okay_.”

Magnus cups Alec's face, placing a thumb to his lips to quiet him.

“Your hand,” he reminds Alec, raising his chin towards the one he'd seen rubbed raw not long ago. “Your arm, the time the forsaken attacked. You can't pretend I don't know, Alexander.”

Shamed, Alec speaks. “Jace pulled me away from boxing. I didn't get a chance to cool down.” He shrugs. “Tired muscles, 's'all.”

Magnus waits, patient and immovable, eyes unflinchingly watching Alec.

“I might've.” He tries to draw his face away from Magnus' hand, but Magnus just follows him, until he closes his eyes and turns his lips into Magnus' palm, an almost kiss before he speaks again. “I might've gone too hard.”

Magnus stands on tiptoe to kiss Alec's forehead, gentle as can be.

“May I?” he asks when he pulls back, waving his fingers to indicate magic.

“Are you sure?” Alec's brow furrows, refusal close behind the question on his lips.

“Yes,” Magnus replies without hesitation. “I wouldn't offer if I didn't have what I need to do it,” he adds, an honest reassurance.

Alec considers for a moment and then nods. Magnus snaps once and then pushes blue light into Alec's body, brings red light out. “Oh.” Alec's knees go weak and he drops. Magnus catches him clumsily, helping him to the couch.

“I haven't been pain-free in a really long time,” Alec says as he sits, a dumbfounded realization.

“Yeah,” Magnus says, worried and fond, a hand coming again to Alec's face to smooth his hair back, “I got that impression.”

For several moments, Alec just breathes, eyes closed to revel in this new feeling – he brushes unconsciousness a couple times, the relief is so great. Magnus hovers, one hand on Alec's neck, the other grasping his upper arm on the opposite side, steadying him.

Alec opens his eyes; they're clear, but barely. “So depression is what you think this is, huh?”

Magnus huffs out a laugh, dropping his hands to his thighs to steady himself now. “I think you're gonna be the death of me,” he says as he straightens.

“Sit back,” he urges, pushing ineffectually at Alec's shoulders. “Back. We need tea,” he declares when Alec acquiesces, heading for the kitchen once again. He sets the kettle with its now-cool water back on the stove. Normally, he'd magick it, but there was more pain in Alec than he'd anticipated. His hand shakes.

“I'm not a therapist,” he reminds Alec. “Freud and I may have been close, but he was much more wrong than right.” He rubs a thumb over his lip, giving himself a moment to say something he knows Alec won't like. “You should talk to a professional.”

“Ha. Right,” Alec laughs, turning to sit sideways on the couch so he can see Magnus. “Shadowhunters are definitely known for their mental health programs.”

Magnus grins, delighted and surprised by how much lighter Alec is when he's not in pain. Hearing it, knowing this, tinges his every memory of Alec with sorrow, something he'll need to come to terms with, he suspects.

“You could see a mundane therapist,” he suggests. “Just,” he raises a hand to cut off the protest he can see coming, “to get a place to start.”

Alec shrugs, slowly, and Magnus can tell that the conversation is done for now. They wait in comfortable silence until the kettle whistles. Magnus reaches for it and cries out – having burned his hand in forgetting the dwindling reserves of his magic.

He curses in his first tongue and moves to shake the pain out, but finds Alec at his side. “Whoa,” he says, startled, swaying back towards the kettle, only to have Alec catch him with one hand and grab his hand to see the burn with the other. The worry on Alec's face makes Magnus' chest hurt.

Carefully, Alec guides Magnus towards the sink opposite them, where he turns on a gentle stream of water, testing it for the proper temperature. He brings Magnus' hand under it, holding it there in a tender grasp, until the worst of the sting has faded away. Magnus stares at Alec the whole time. It isn't until he's toweling Magnus' hand off, gently gently in short careful strokes, and looks up again to assess him that Alec notices.

“What?” he says, small and a little defensive.

Magnus shakes his head slightly, still staring, awed. “I never expect you.”

Alec smiles at him and then leans in to kiss his temple, lips lingering. “Good I hope?” he repeats this old sentiment as a question and pauses, waiting for the answer.

“Good,” Magnus confirms, also smiling and tilting his face to kiss Alec wet and proper. Alec kisses back, brings his hips against Magnus, pushing him into the counter next to the sink. He drops the towel and brings both hands up to Magnus' face. Magnus follows suit, one hand slipping past the shell of Alec's ear into his hair, the other slipping under the hem of Alec's shirt. Neither realize that the kettle is still whistling, not until Alec bumps the sink on again when he moves to cage Magnus, splashing them both. They break apart laughing and dry each other off.

Once calm and dry again, Magnus makes to reach for the kettle once more, but Alec catches his hand, pointing accusingly at the burn still there. “You _do_ need my strength.” He sounds unimpressed.

“What I need is a hot pad,” Magnus retorts. But then he remembers: “I just. Don't have one.”

Alec raises an eyebrow before lifting his arms to peel his shirt off and use it to move the kettle off the stove, carefully arranging the shirt to be used as a hot pad beneath the kettle, too.

Magnus drops his elbow to the counter so he can put his chin in his hand, watching Alec's runes ripple under his skin, over his muscles. “Too hot,” he mutters under his breath, helplessly. “Hot damn.”

“Hm?” Alec murmurs, turning back to face Magnus again, but Magnus has already turned toward his myriad of tea options. He's running his fingers over them, muttering to himself as he debates which to offer Alec. It makes Alec feel incredibly fond of him. He steps up behind him, molding himself to Magnus' back and hooking his chin over Magnus' shoulder.

“What about that one?” he asks, pointing at a random one.

“No, no.” Magnus waves him off with a wrinkled nose. “Oh here.” He plucks a jar from the back of the group, labeled in a language Alec doesn't know. “Ginger,” he explains, “an anti-inflammatory. You're going to need it – just because you can't feel it, doesn't mean it's not there. Well,” he corrects, turning around to face Alec, “technically it's not there right _now_ , but it will be later.”

Alec nods along, hardly following and hardly caring. He smiles at Magnus.

“Mon petit chou,” Magnus says, drawing an affectionate hand along Alec's cheek as he steps by him for the mugs. Alec swings around to follow him, hands on his waist, sidling back up behind him when he stops again to pour. Magnus pours with one hand, grasping Alec's wadded up shirt, and slips his fingers between the fingers of one of Alec's hands with the other, his palm over Alec's hand over his hip.

Once the tea is ready, Magnus slips around in Alec's hold, handing one cup over with a smile. “I hope you like this better than that IPA,” he says.

Alec laughs, accepts the cup and takes a sip. He tries to quell the expression he can feel forming on his face, but Magnus' chuckle means he didn't succeed. “Maybe some honey?” he suggests, face scrunched.

“Behind you,” Magnus directs him, still chuckling and waving one hand over Alec's shoulder to point. “Middle shelf of that cabinet.”

Alec sets his mug down behind Magnus, dragging his nose along Magnus' cheek as he pulls back again and makes for the honey.

“There's sugar in that middle canister, too,” Magnus adds, biting his bottom lip. “Join me on the couch when you've got it to your liking, Shadowhunter.”

Magnus drinks his tea quickly, amused as he watches Alec try to make his cup into something he can drink before giving up as discreetly as he can and ridding himself of the mug by placing it in the sink.

By the time he comes over, Magnus is stretched out over the length of the couch, leaving room for Alec nowhere but on top of him. His eyes are closed, but by his quick breathing, he's clearly not asleep.

Alec considers his frame and Magnus' for several moments, before Magnus peeks one eye open at him. “You're not going to crush me, Alexander.”

Cheeks burning, Alec makes a face at him, but does settle himself carefully on Magnus, trying to balance most of his weight on the edge of the couch. He slides one leg between Magnus', Magnus bringing the leg nearest to the back of the couch up to allow him to get comfortable before gently laying that leg back down over Alec's. Alec tucks the hand on that side of him between Magnus' ribs and the couch, laying his body down between those two anchoring points, Magnus patiently waiting. At last, he brings his face to Magnus' chest, all the tension leaving him at the sound of Magnus' heartbeat below his ear.

Magnus brings his arms down around Alec, shivering as their bare skin meets. He draws powerless protection sigils on the empty skin around Alec's runes until they both doze off.

Hours later, Magnus comes back to consciousness, groggy and warm, and finds Alec already awake. The fight not to fidget is playing out in the tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing, of Alec's muscles.

“Ssh,” Magnus soothes, holding him tighter. He presses a kiss into his hair. “I'm here. I'm here.”

It's several minutes before Alec is calm enough to speak, the shaking in his frame settled for the most part.

“I dreamt of falling. I saw your face – and then I fell. Over and over and –” he chokes, unable to finish. Magnus strokes his cheek.

“You're safe, you didn't fall,” he murmurs, bringing his chin down to brush his lips against Alec's forehead as he speaks. “I'm here. I'm here, Alexander. I've got you.”

The last of the tremors have finally worked themselves out when Alec says, “Magnus, the other night – we didn't –. Do you want me?”

“Want you?” Magnus asks, shocked into utter stillness. “Of course I _want_ you. I want you more than – oh, Alec.” He brings his hands to Alec's shoulders, pushes him up so he can see his face. Alec holds himself up with a hand on either side of Magnus, struggles to look at him. “ _Dear heart_ ,” Magnus breathes, agonized.

“When I was,” Alec starts, but his voice fails him. He swallows twice before he can continue, sits back on his haunches to let Magnus slip out from under him until they're sitting face to face. “When I was on that ledge, the last thing I thought was that-was that you didn't.”

Magnus reaches for Alec's face, cradles it in his hands and bringing their foreheads together. “Oh Alec, darling, I'm so sorry.” He pulls back just enough to see Alec's face. “I thought we were clear on that. I wanted to wait because I _want you_ more than I know what to do with or how to handle. Alec, _honey_. I am so sorry. I thought you knew.”

Alec goes limp in Magnus' hold, shoulders curving towards him as his hands steady himself on Magnus' thighs. He sucks in breaths as though the air is brand new.

“Okay,” he breathes, when he can, “okay.”

Magnus draws Alec's face up, slowly, tenderly, until he can look into Alec's eyes, past their shimmering. Holding their eye contact, he moves in unhurriedly, parting his lips so that when they reach Alec's, Alec's upper lip slides softly in between them. His eyes remain open until he sees Alec's eyes close.

He kisses Alec like he could drink him, his lips moving tender and heated and desiring against his. He shifts his body against Alec's, bringing himself closer on his knees, taking Alec's lower lip now, running his tongue along the curve of its bottom edge as if the taste is all he's living for. Their hips align. He slips his tongue past Alec's lips, into his gasping mouth. His hips push against Alec's hot hands on them. He brings his tongue back to Alec's lips, feels Alec's tongue come searching for it, smiles into the kiss, just slightly, doesn't want to break it. Nips Alec's searching tongue. Nips, too, at Alec's lips, first the top, then the bottom, Alec is panting beneath him, his bare chest heaving against Magnus'. Magnus kisses and kisses and kisses him, the same slowness to the movements, deliberate and aching, until he has no more breath of his own.

He pulls back, eyes hooded over panting, swollen mouth. He licks his own bottom lip, draws it into him to suck the taste of Alec off it.

“See?” he pants. His cat eyes glitter at Alec.

Alec – dazed, delirious, dazzled – nods. And pushes him back against the couch.

 

**Author's Note:**

> please come talk to me [on tumblr](themartyrsthesaintsthesaviors.tumblr.com) i need more people who are drowning in this ship in my life
> 
> also comments are super duper appreciated <3


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